


Papyrus Hates Dirty Socks

by MissKierie



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Arguing, Guilt, Impact Play, Magical cock, Other, Reader-Insert, Skeletons, Socks, Spit Kink, Vaginal Sex, a crying Papyrus, ectodick, mild physical abuse, mild verbal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5702392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissKierie/pseuds/MissKierie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Papyrus have a pretty big fight. And then you find yourself getting fucked on the stairs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Papyrus Hates Dirty Socks

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so. Papyrus is really hard to write. For me, at least. Maybe I expressed this while writing because… eheh, the reader is very mean in this. I REPEAT: **this fic is MEAN.** The reader is straight up mean to Papyrus and he totally doesn’t deserve any of it. Kinky anger sex ensues.
> 
> I didn't upload this for the longest time because I'm fucking ashamed of it. I adore Papyrus so much and I can't believe I wrote this. Maybe I just want to destroy everything that I love. I hope you get some enjoyment out of it.

You’ve never fought with him this badly before. It started with you. Just being an asshole. Weren’t listening to him. He was getting so angry. Really angry. Cheeks even starting to flush orange. Large boots stomping on the hardwood. He must have been telling you something important. He’s yelling.

Fuck this. You rise from the couch to leave, heading towards the stairs. Papyrus scampers ahead of you and blocks your path, spreading his arms and legs out like a starfish. He struggles to keep an even expression. Steam would probably blow out his ears, if he had any. “HUMAN. (your name).” His voice is loud but steady. “THERE’S NO NEED TO BE SO DIFFICULT.” You don’t even give him the time of day, ducking under his arm to escape upstairs. Of course, his reaction is instant. Long arms scoop you up effortlessly. Trying to be delicate while keeping you still. You cuss and elbow him in the ribs.

“Let go of me!!” You thrash and he just stands there. Like a gentle giant. Tension in his bones. Like he’s trying to not crush you. Trying to keep his cool. You crane your body around and slam your dirty, socked foot in his face. Papyrus hates being unsanitary. You know he’ll hate this. And he does! “AHHH!!!” He screams and dumps your body on the stairs, instantly pinning you there, his heavy ribcage pushing on your diaphragm. The weight of him on you, his boiling temper, seeing his bones so rattled… it kinda turns you on. You chuckle, disgusted at your own intrusive thoughts.

He bores a hole in your eyes with his glower, orange glow beginning to emanate from one of his sockets. He opens his mouth to say something and you interrupt him, “what are you gonna do?” You coyly push your foot against his ischium. Just egging him on at this point. You’ve never seen him this angry… but you know what that glowing eye means. “Scold me? Punish me? You can’t do shit.”

His huge hand grips your face and forces your head against one of the steps, effectively shutting you up. The other arm loops around your lower back, pulling your entire body against him, breasts squished under his massive frame. “I… I JUST MIGHT.” He falters, but his words still make you grin. Hips grind up against him, sacrum rubbing your mons. He groans like he’s repulsed, “I. WANT TO. HURT YOU.” He gently removes his hand from your face and looks away like he’s guilty of something.

Your eyes brighten. You’ve wanted to do more… heavy things with Papyrus in the past. He was never up to it. Always so eager to please, but even more cautious. Maybe getting him genuinely pissed was the way to go. “Then just fucking do it.” Get a wicked idea. Wad up a ball of spit in your mouth. and fucking. launch it at him. He isn’t expecting it and it splats on him, right between the eyes. No immediate reaction. You’re about to burst out in laughter or apologize, maybe both, until he slowly turns around and plucks the socks off your feet. He carefully balls them up in his gloved hands. Then, he’s shoving them into your mouth. You protest, trying to force them out with your tongue, but his hand covers your entire jaw. They don’t taste that bad. But they still make you gag. The smells of his leather gloves distracts you from the flavor.

His other hand forcefully yanks at your shirt collar down until your breasts bounce out. Instead of his normal careful caressing, he gives one a hearty SMACK. You let out a muffled squeal and thrust your hips into him again. He hits you again, harder. Skin starting to develop color from the impact. Making a fist, he pushes it right in-between your breasts, on your sternum. It feels like he could burst your ribs with a single punch. He lightly applies pressure. Then he reels back and gives your chest a gentle jab. It knocks the wind out of you but you mooaaan. The pain feels nice.

That’s about all the foreplay you get. One hand still on your mouth, the other pulling your panties to the side. You’re wet. Not a ton. But it’ll do. He probably doesn’t care at this point. You don’t care either. His eye flashes with creamsicle orange and you feel a warm tip press to your entrance. You grasp one of the banister rods with both hands. He unceremoniously pushes his entire length into you. “YOU…” he grumbles out. He’s deep inside. Pulls out. Little swirl of the hips. Back in. Adjusting to his size. It hurt at first but it starts to feel really good. “YOU STUCK YOUR FILTHY SOCKS IN MY FACE!” Your back arches. Trying to get that sweet angle. In and out. In and out. “YOU IGNORED ME!” 

You’re still not listening. Ugh, the socks. You gagged again. Starting to cry, snot accumulating in your nostrils. You grab the leather material around his wrist, gently pulling, silently begging him to ungag you. He removes his hand, but before you even have time to spit them out, he’s grabbing you by the hair and waist, roughly tossing you on your stomach. The socks launch out as your throat is forced against one of the corners of the stairs. Kneeling on the stairs like this is uncomfortable. 

Gloved hands squeeze as he pulls your head back from the hair at the base of your scalp. You let out a pant and begin to say something, only to be interrupted but a hearty SMACK on the ass. OH MAN, that hurt! You sniffle up the snot draining out and look back at him as best you can. SMACK. SMACK SMACK. Pause. You wiggle your hips at him, want him back inside you. A plethora of incredibly fast slaps to your already darkening cheek. He’s only been hitting one spot the entire time. Pause. You’re whimpering.

He enters you again with a heavy sigh and starts thrusting rather shallowly. Hand tenderly rubs the bruise starting to form on your rear. “WE GET NOTHING DONE WHEN YOU ACT LIKE THIS.” His voice remains steady. “OPEN AND HONEST COMMUNICATION! EVERY RELATIONSHIP IS SOMETHING THAT NEEDS TO BE WORKED ON.” He’s deliberately taking his time fucking you, wanting you to hear his words rather than get off. “(you name), IF YOU’RE ANGRY OR CAN’T LISTEN, YOU CAN LET ME KNOW. THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS VERY UNDERSTANDING AFTER ALL.” A single tear slides from his eye socket and he immediately wipes it off.

He’s still talking. God, you wish he would just shut his skull and get on with it. “Papyrus!” you scream. “Shut the fuck up,” you plainly state. He looks hurt. “Shut up and FUCK! ME! ALREADY!!!”

That was it. He snaps. Both his hands are on your sides, grasping your hip bones in a death grip. Speechless for only a moment, then he begins his onslaught on your opening. You can feel him swell inside. Completely filling you. He’s mumbling and swearing. Holy shit. You’ve never heard him swear before. He’s going so fast, pushing into you so hard the top ridge of his pelvic bone basically punches you in the butt. You’re in-between giggling and loudly moaning. Dig your nails into the wood of the stairs. Curling in on yourself as your orgasm approaches. His hands stay put, spine hunches over. His eye bursts with a beam of orange magic as he unloads inside you. His weird magic ectoplasm. He lets out an open mouth scream that’s so fucking dramatic, you stop everything and just collapse in laughter. 

He’s panting behind you, still grasping your hips. His magic disappears from within you, along with all his orange seed. Your orgasm fades away, you’re guffawing too hard to finish. Roll over and sit up. Oh, he looks so sad! Reach up and cup his cheek. He starts crying.

“WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO MEAN?!?” He jumps over you, landing all the way on the top stair, and runs to his room. Door slams. “Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M. immediately starts playing.

You grunt and relocate to the couch, landing on it with a plop. Start touching yourself, you’re pretty close anyway. Might as well finish the job. A few minutes of clit-rubbing and you’re there. Doesn’t feel as good as you were hoping. Lackluster. Guilt starting to set in. You really fucked up tonight.

Oh. You should pick up those socks.


End file.
